


Talk to Me

by wth_am_i_writing



Series: Descent [26]
Category: VIXX
Genre: Abuse, Blood and Violence, Cutting, F/M, Frottage, Grinding, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Inspired by the Voodoo Doll MV, Knifeplay, Masochism, POV Second Person, Sadism, sub!VIXX, sub!hakyeon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-13 06:53:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16887717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wth_am_i_writing/pseuds/wth_am_i_writing
Summary: It was the only thing he ever requested, but you never did much talking.





	Talk to Me

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted on December 3, 2013 on Tumblr.
> 
> Original Author’s Note: This is a prequel of sorts to the Hongbin fic I put out a few days ago. I don’t think it’s as fucked up as the last one, but it might make Hongbin’s story more fucked up? Anyway, it’s inspired by the Voodoo Doll PV, an features Dom!Reader and Sub!VIXX because there’s a serious lack of fanfics where VIXX are the ones getting walked all over considering their concepts and music. No warm fluffy feelings here.

The heat of an angry glare burned into your back as you wiped your hands on your dress. Paying it little mind, you adjusted the dolls on the table in the center of the room. You picked up Hongbin and Ravi’s dolls and turned to the hallway that led to your room. Just as you were stepping out of the room, a loud bang sounded behind you. Slowly, you turned back to glare at the troublesome doll. Gripping the jagged glass of his cell, N wrinkled his nose and he tilted his head all the way to the side to stare at you.

“Master,” he called firmly. “Why did you let both of them out at the same time?”

You stared straight back into N’s eyes. With a few long strides, you approached his cage. When you were just two feet away, he reached out to you. His flesh stretched on the tethered ring in his shoulder, jerking him back slightly. A hiss of pain escaped his lips as he flinched.

“Master, _why_ did you let _both_ of them out at the same time?” N repeated, his voice just as firm and bitter as it had been before.

“I was bored,” you replied flatly.

“Why _them_ and not _me_?” N growled.

“Why _you_ and not _them_?” you returned.

“Hongbin’s just going to bring back another useless corpse.” You held your stare with N, knowing he was correct. But even if that was true, there was always that slight hope that the lunatic would actually succeed in his mission for once.

“Then let him be punished,” You finally said as you turned away from N.

“You just want to punish him,” N hissed at your back. “Why give him exactly what he wants?”

“And why should I give you exactly what you want?” you ask, looking at him over your shoulder. His eye twitched at your words, igniting a spark of motivation and interest inside you. You turned around and slowly stepped up to the broken glass of his cage. “Are you lonely?” you asked, reaching up to brush your fingers along the hand he gripped the glass with. You trailed your fingers over the glass along the outline of his arm. “Are you _bothered_?”

“ _Very_ bothered. _Very_ lonely,” he hissed as he grabbed your arm. Displeased by the touch, you narrowed your eyes in warning. He slowly retracted his hands and stepped away from the glass. Of all the dolls, N was the second most obedient, but his temper could sometimes be dangerous.

“What do you want me to do about it?” you asked N.

“ _Talk_ with me,” N replied, his firm tone faltering in the middle of the sentence. You motioned for him to approach the glass and he stepped forward. Bringing your hands to the ring in his shoulder, you untied the knot tethering him. Curling your fingers around the ring, you tugged him forward. He stiffly stepped over the broken glass fence and out of his cage. Discomfort and nervousness filled his features as his eyes darted around the room.

“You dislike being out of your cage? I thought you wanted to talk with me. Come, sit in my room,” you teased, jerking at the ring in his shoulder. N flinched, following the motion to lessen the pain. You turned, keeping hold of the ring as you walked, forcing N to walk hunched and sideways behind you. As you passed the table in the center of the room, you picked up N’s doll. You continued out of the cage room and down the short hall to your room. After kicking the door open, you jerked N forward and through the door. You pushed past him, your heels clicking on the concrete. Upon reaching a throne-like chair—the only uncovered place to sit in the room—you turned around and sat.  Crossing your legs, you placed the three dolls on the table beside you.

“Close the door and come here,” You commanded N. He narrowed his eyes at you and slammed the door closed. He walked towards you, his gate stilted and stiff. You had noticed the same jerky motion when you’d dragged him in, but had ignored it thinking that it was because he’d been lacking exercise lately. It had been weeks since you’d last let him out of his cage. When he was about a foot away from you, you motioned for him to stop. “Kneel.”

N sunk to his knees, and brought his hands behind his back. He lowered his head as a symbol of complete submission. A few incisions showed through the holes in his tattered wool sweater, each stapled closed. How old were those cuts? Time had little meaning to you anymore.

“What do you want to talk about?” you ask him. He stared up at you.

“Anything, master,” he responded. You sighed and relaxed back into your chair.

“Then talk,” you said letting your eyes drift off to the corner of the room. He remained silent for several moments before he drew in a breath.

“Do you remember before? We used to have such good conversations.” There was a rustle as he crawled towards you. A hesitant hand reached out and touched your thigh. “You used to talk to me about everything under the sun. You used to tell me all your feelings, but these days you don’t tell me anything. You don’t even talk about _him_.”

The hand on your thigh pulled back. The area it had been chilled in the cool air. After a moment, his rough hand hesitantly touched yours. His fingers covered yours and he slowly attempted to lace fingers. You flinched away, not even looking at him. He didn’t let your hand escape and instead gripped it.

“Tell me what you’re feeling…” he pleaded weakly. “Tell me how to heal your heart.” His other hand came to rest on one of your shins. His dry, cracked hands ran over your skin in what seemed to be his attempts to sooth your discontent. You brought your gaze back to him, meeting his dark eyes.

“You want to heal me?” you asked him. He nodded once, keeping the eye contact. You leaned forward, uncrossed your legs, and breathed out, “Then pay with your body like you made me pay with mine.” His hand on your shin tensed and clawed into your flesh, his grip strong.

“I have paid more than my debt,” he growled.

“You should have gotten out when you could have,” you hissed back.

“I never wanted to leave.”

“You still don’t, and you never will,” you spat as you grabbed his arm with your free hand and pulled his hand from your leg. N broke eye contact and stared at the hand he held in his. “I have engraved myself so thoroughly into you that you can’t go.”

You shoved him back, forcing him to release your hand. He lost his balance from the force and barely managed to catch himself.  Pressing your foot into his stomach, you forced him to fall onto his back. When he was flat on the ground, you stood and stepped over him, slowly lowering yourself to straddle his stomach. From there it only took you moments to slide your hands up his exposed arms and along the sutured cuts.

“You enjoyed each and every one of these that I put on your body.” N turned his face away at your words, tensing and shifting below you. “You came harder than you ever did when you were human.”

“I’m still human,” he protested.

“You lost your humanity long before I took your soul,” you hissed as you scooted back to rest on his hips and moved your hands under the hem of his sweater. You pushed the fabric up, revealing his cut covered abdomen.  Slowly tracing the cuts, you admired how little his muscular body had changed despite his inactivity. N could easily push you off, could easily beat you to death—any of the dolls could but they didn’t because—

“Because I love you.” N’s words made your stomach churn and fingers curl as you remembered the past. You slammed your fist into his stomach, then again and again.  Each hit erased a little more of your disgust. Each hit aroused new excitement. Desire filled your mind, causing you to stand and walk behind your chair to where a table containing piercing materials stood. Your hands found the small drawer under the table and opened it. Inside was an assortment of scalpels and a stapler.

You selected a scalpel and took the stapler, then returned to N. While you were gone, he’d sat up and stripped his sweater completely and tossed it across the room. The clicking of your heels drew his attention back to you. He eased himself back to the ground before you could kick him down. You lowered yourself on top his hips once again, placing the stapler to the side. Applying just enough pressure to leave his skin intact, you traced the lines of N’s abdominal muscles with the scalpel, avoiding any areas that were already wounded. There were easily over a dozen incisions on his upper body already—incisions that never healed and had to be held closed with staples.

Shifting on his hips, you stretched upwards and traced his pecs, then up his neck to his jaw. He threw his head back, exposing his long neck in full. You placed the flat side of the scalpel to his chin and shifted again as you felt him grow hard from the anticipation. Slowly, you traced from his chin to his Adam’s apple, and rested the tip just above it.

“I could cut your vocal chords out,” you mused. N opened his mouth and took a long, shuttering breath in. He couldn’t protest—couldn’t cause his own injury. You shifted on his hips again. Settling in, you began thrusting your hips—dry humping him into a hard squirming mess. “What would you do if I took your voice from you?”

He tensed each muscle in his body in order to resist matching your thrusts, in order to stop accidently slitting his throat. He clenched his eyes shut and bit his lips. His expression, the tension in his body, his quivering muscles drew a rare smile from your lips. You decided to pardon his voice and began tracing down his neck once more. Keeping your hips moving, you sat up and brought your free hand around to caress his chest. You fingered and fiddled with the wounds on his chest, occasionally picking at a staple. Then you saw it—the perfect place to leave a new incision.

You brought your free hand to N’s ribs, tracing them, running your fingers over the bones and then in between them. After selecting two ribs, you placed the scalpel between them and pressed down. The tip broke the skin and N’s hips ground hard into yours, his muscles tensing at the pain. Pressing harder, you slowly brought the knife down his side. Blood trickled from the incision, staining your hand. You pulled the knife back when you reached his side and began selecting the next place to cut. After gliding your hand over his chest, you pointed the scalpel to the left of his sternum and cut. N bucked into your hips, shuttering in pain and pleasure. He clenched his fists and started to build up a rhythm for your dry fucking.

Satisfied with his reactions, you pulled back and shifted backwards off his hips. He moaned in discontent as you slid back. You brought your hands to his pants hem and unfastened it. He pressed his hips up to your touch as you unzipped his pants and slid your hands over his cloth-covered hips. Gripping the top, you pulled his pants down, making sure to leave his underwear in place. Once the pants were past his knees, you caressed the longest incision on his body—a line that ran from his hip to the inside of his knee. The scalpel clinked against each staple as you followed the cut up from his knee.

When you reached his underwear, you brought the flat side to his skin once more then followed the curve of his leg to his inner thigh. N’s erection was straining through the cloth, pre-cum soaking it through. Bringing the point back to his skin, you held the knife steady. N shifted, impatiently pulling himself to his elbows so he could look at you.  Blood that had pooled on his chest streamed down, staining his underwear bright red. His eyes were intent, half hooded and filled with desire.

“Just do it,” N moaned. “ _Please_.” You licked your lips and pulled the knife away. N threw his head back and whimpered in disappointment, stoking your flames. Teasingly, you pressed the tip lightly onto his erection. He whimpered again, bringing his head up to stare at the blade. His breathing was labored and the bleeding on his chest hadn’t clotted at all. “Not there,” he moaned out. “God, anywhere but there.” You increased the pressure, but still not enough to cut through the fabric covering his dick. He shivered and squeezed his eyes shut in fear. “Please don’t, don’t, don’t, don’t,” he begged.

Heading his pleas, you remove the knife and quickly, swiftly slit a long gash down his inner thigh instead.  Giggles erupted uncontrollably from your lips as you did so—the flinch of his legs, his groans of pain mixed with pleasure, the way his muscles tensed as he came, and the feel of his flesh giving way excited you thoroughly. Blood spilled out, much more than with the previous two cuts. You’d slashed closer to a larger vein. N shook, his muscles relaxing as he lost blood. You reached for the stapler. Starting from his the incision on his chest, you stapled him shut. With each punch, N whimpered beautifully, his hands occasionally clawing the ground weakly in pleasure as he lost consciousness.

“Master… Are you still bored?” N weakly asked. Ignoring his question, you moved to his leg, paying special attention to make sure the wound had closed. “Was it… good?”

“You’re almost as fucking useless as Ken,” you spat, eliciting a weak chuckle from N. When you finished patching the wounds, you pulled back and stood. The floor in front of your chair was covered in blood, thick enough to be almost black. You frowned at the mess. He had probably lost too much blood. You’d gotten carried away. You stepped back, splashing in the blood, and headed towards one of the covered shelves.

“It was… good,” N whispered, voice cracking on the last word. When you reached the shelf, you pulled back the cover to reveal a small cooler with blood transfusions in the event of such occasions. After grabbing a packet and stand, you turned back to N.  You kicked him to the side, out of his blood, and kneeled down beside him to insert the IV needle into his arm. “Why do you do this… with us?”

“With no incentive, you’ll never do your job. If I never at least paid attention to your needs, you wouldn’t still be here,” you said, knowing the truth would be more painful for him than any lie. N laughed weakly at the words.

“I will find him… I will torture him… I will bring him to you… and then… I will kill him… for what he did,” N breathed out, the firm conviction he had earlier returning to his voice. “I’ll do anything… to see you smile…”

You wrinkled your nose and stood. He wasn’t much use at the moment, nor would he move anytime soon. You returned to your chair, slipping your heels off. Pulling your legs up, you situated yourself the most comfortably you could in the wooden throne. All you had to do was wait for Ravi and Hongbin to return again.


End file.
